By Lady Glass
Author's Note: I've noticed that a lot of stories on FictionPress don't get finished. This story will. I've written every chapter and it is completely done, spell-checked, edited, ready to go. All I have to do is upload the chapters. I hope to upload one chapter every couple days. Please review, but don't worry, I'm not relying on how many reviews I get...that's cheap.
We live on an island in the Pacific Ocean, surrounded by the salty waves crashing on rocky beaches, where sand is scarce and there are muscles and clams and barnacles and rocks everywhere you look. We live in a little town where nothing ever happens and we can't go to wild parties like they do in the TV shows about Los Angeles and New York and all those big cities I dream about. We went to Seattle once, remember? It was kind of boring but you said we weren't in the really good part of Seattle. For some reason you didn't take me to that part. You only took me to the boring part where we visited your sister and ate at that place called Ivar's where they had really good clam chowder and fish and chips. You called your sister Sissy. I never did find out what her real name was. You never told me. Maybe sometime I'll remember to ask you but for now I think I'll just be with you and not worry about what your sissy's real name is.
Oak Harbor is kind of dull but you always manage to make things fun. We never got our driver's licenses so we just take the Island Transit, but it's free so it doesn't matter. You take me to the beach every day and you let me meet all the dogs and take pictures of me with them. I don't think the owners mind much, they would if anyone else wanted to take pictures of their dogs, but you've got something special. One time when I told you that you laughed and said you thought it was more because of me. I don't think I've got anything special. I'm just normal.
Why's your name Coco? you asked me one time.
I shrugged and said, My mom's favorite designer was Coco Chanel. I think she wanted me to be like her. But I'm not.
So what, you said. What do you care if you're not just what your mom wants you to be? I'm not what my mom wants me to be and I don't beat myself up about it.
You're not named after a designer, I said.
It's not just names that give us something to be measured against, you said. I didn't really understand but the way you said it made it sound like something special so I nodded and kept quiet for a long time. You chuckled – I hate saying laughed because what you do is more like a chuckle – and put your arm around me, pulling me against you in a kind of half hug, and kissed my forehead. You didn't say anything. I didn't expect you to.
A lot of people look up to you. I don't think you've ever known that. I never tell you but a lot of people watch everything you do really carefully, like if they miss anything it will ruin everything. You don't notice things like that. You walk down a sidewalk with this easy-going stride like you've got everything to live for. And you do.
One of those people is Mani. I guess you'd never think he'd be one of those people because he's so cool and he's nothing like you. You've got that bronze skin and yellow blond hair and popping green eyes. You're my height but you're really strong and you're amazing. You're like one of those surfers on those L.A. shows about the beach. Mani's got that mocha latté skin and those honey brown eyes and maroon dreadlocks. He's so tall and he's not as strong as you, he's leaner, and he always wears those big aviator sunglasses. You never wear sunglasses. You don't need them, your hair covers your eyes. I always kind of wish they didn't. Your eyes are so beautiful, they should be there for the whole world to see.
Mani told me once he wanted to be like you. I asked him why and he said I wouldn't understand but he also told me not to tell you. I don't know why but I never did tell you. Mani's the only other person I'd ever listen to.
I guess I never noticed.
But then, I never noticed a lot of things. I never noticed that either.